


But behaving's boring!

by greenstone



Series: Spanking Sherlock [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, M/M, Over the Knee, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenstone/pseuds/greenstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're a very, very bad boy, Sherlock Holmes, and you deserve a good, hard punishment, don't you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	But behaving's boring!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, it's been a long time since I've updated this! Sorry about that. Still aiming to give other characters a chance to get their hands on Sherlock, but for now here's John spanking Sherlock again. Because there can never be enough stories about John spanking Sherlock.

"Sherlock! I'm warning you, you better behave yourself, or else you're for it."

Sherlock waved a hand dismissively and sat down beside John, leaning against the bed's headboard. "Sorry John. I don't feel like behaving. Behaving's boring."

John huffed a laugh. "Oh, is it? It's like breathing, and eating, and sleeping, is it?"

"Even worse."

"Hm, well that's a shame, because I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter. Either you behave yourself, or I'll have to take matters into my own hands." John spoke seriously, but his bright eyes were laughing as he caught Sherlock's gaze.

Sherlock smirked. "Really, John? And what exactly do you - "

Before he could finish, John moved, quick as a flash, grabbed Sherlock's arm with one hand and put the other around the back of his shoulder, and pulled Sherlock down across his lap. He placed his left hand on Sherlock's bare back and his right hand on the round curve of Sherlock's pyjama-clad backside. "How about this?"

"Are you suggesting spanking me?" asked Sherlock, trying to sound disinterested. "Rather childish, don't you think?"

"Well, you are a child. Or at least you act like one half the time."

"28% of the time, at the most."

"Oh really? Well I suppose your maths is better than a child's, at least."

"587% better, actually."

John snorted in laughter and Sherlock's lips twitched.

"That's good, because I've got some counting for you to do. Shall we say twenty? Wouldn't want to overdo it; got to look after my hands."

"Or we could say zero," suggested Sherlock, safe in the knowledge that John would ignore this proposal.

"Oh no, I don't think that will do at all." John rubbed his hand over Sherlock's bottom, and Sherlock squirmed a little, pleasurably. "You need to be taught how to behave, remember? And anyway, now I've got you here with your gorgeous arse over my knee there's nothing for it. It's irresistible. You've only got yourself to blame. If you didn't want this to happen, you shouldn't have got yourself such a spankable bum."

"I see. I hadn't realised the situation had got so far out of your control. I can only apologise."

"Quite right too."

"I suppose there really is nothing for it then."

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, have at it. I've marshalled my exceptional counting abilities and I'm ready for anything you can throw at me."

John smirked. "Is that so?" He looked down at the lanky figure draped over his lap. Sherlock had folded his hands in front of him and propped his cheek on them, head turned in John's direction. John's appreciative eye trailed across the bulge of his bicep, the curly mess of dark hair, the long smooth stretch of his muscled back, the lovely swell of his arse upturned over John's thigh, and the slim legs in striped pyjamas, feet disappearing over the side of the bed.

The sight of Sherlock spread out like this under his hands was making John's arousal build impressively fast, and Sherlock could feel the growing hardness against his bony hip. Not that he was in a much better position himself. The tingling sense of anticipation alone had his cock swelling, pressed between his stomach and John's lap.

They'd never done this before, but John found that it felt surprisingly natural, when he looked at that round backside, for him to lift his hand and bring it down in a sharp smack. 

"One," said Sherlock, calmly.

John aimed at the other cheek, harder this time.

"Two."

Smack.

"Three."

Smack.

"Four."

John frowned slightly. Sherlock seemed disappointingly unaffected so far. John really put his arm into the fifth, eager for a reaction, and was rewarded with a surprised grunt.

"Five," said Sherlock, and was it John's imagination, or did his voice sound just slightly breathy? He dealt another hard blow. "Six," counted Sherlock, and shifted his hips a tiny bit. John felt the rub of Sherlock's erection and grinned.

He raised his hand, paused for a moment to let the expectation ramp up, and then brought it down in a flurry of slaps, six, seven in a row, not waiting for Sherlock to count each one off before applying the next. He stopped just long enough to let Sherlock catch up with counting before dealing another series of fast slaps.

"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty one," recited Sherlock, and was a bit embarrassed to find that he was definitely starting to breathe a little more heavily now. He shifted his hips again. "You did one too many."

"Sorry," said John blithely, not sounding sorry at all. "I've changed my mind. It's clearly going to take more than twenty to teach you the lesson you deserve."

Sherlock grinned against his hands. "Let’s be honest, John: it would take more than you can possibly deal out to make me be obedient."

John slid a hand along Sherlock's back, over his shoulder and onto his jaw. He stroked gently over that bony, extraordinary face. Sherlock turned his head into the touch, closing his eyes.

"Always so confident," murmured John, his tone a mixture of amusement and affection. "But I think you underestimate me. I mean, I haven’t even taken your trousers down yet."

Sherlock’s eyes cracked open again and John distinctly felt his cock twitch where it was trapped against John's thighs. John smiled. "Eager, are we?"

"No!"

John’s smile broadened. "Right then, naughty boy, lift up." He slid his fingers into the waistband of Sherlock's pyjama bottoms and tugged them down as Sherlock obediently lifted his hips. John pushed the trousers down to Sherlock's knees, then ran his hand back up, trailing his fingertips between Sherlock's thighs on the way. Sherlock shifted and spread his legs, just slightly. His stomach was swirling with an odd combination of embarrassment and intense arousal.

"Mm, gorgeous," John murmured, rubbing Sherlock's bare arse. "You're a little bit pink; it looks amazing." He squeezed Sherlock's right cheek and Sherlock's breath hitched.

"Don't bother counting any more," John said. "We'll go until I decide you've had enough." He pulled his hand back and brought it down hard, drawing a grunt.

John fell into a rough kind of rhythm, hand falling fast and firm. It was totally different doing this on bare skin; the blows sounded sharp and loud and with each slap Sherlock's round arse bounced and grew pinker and pinker, while John grew harder and harder. He would never have imagined that spanking his boyfriend would be this arousing. He would probably have been a bit disturbed by it if it weren't that Sherlock was so obviously hugely turned on too.

After a few minutes, Sherlock started to squirm and shift, whether in an attempt to escape the smacks or to generate some much-needed friction for his cock, neither of them were quite sure. Probably a bit of both. It only made the whole thing hotter for John, having Sherlock wriggling around over his lap like this, legs increasingly spread as he lost any sense of modesty.

John's hand was stinging, so he paused and shook it a bit. Sherlock twisted round to peer at John. His face was flushed and his bottom lip was swollen as if he'd been biting down on it.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked in a valiant, if hopelessly doomed, attempt at cool haughtiness.

John burst out laughing. "Nice try, Sherlock, but I'm afraid there's some pretty compelling evidence that you're enjoying this a lot." He slid his hand under Sherlock's flat stomach and loosely gripped his rock-hard erection. Sherlock let out a strangled moan at the touch and John grinned, giving Sherlock a couple of light tugs.

"I had no idea you were such a glutton for punishment," he murmured with a smile, hand still moving, tormentingly gentle, on Sherlock's cock. "Is this why you behave so badly all the time, hm? Have you just been waiting for someone to finally snap and put you over their knee like the naughty little boy you are?"

Sherlock made a helpless noise that could only be described as a whimper. What on earth was happening to him? John's embarrassing words were only increasing his desperate arousal. His hips jerked involuntarily as he sought more friction.

"Look at you," said John, attempting to sound scornful but unable to keep the affection and lust out of his voice. "Squirming around with your bare arse bright pink, humping my thigh because you're too eager to wait for anything else." He stroked Sherlock's bottom with his right hand, then let his fingers slide down between those hot, red cheeks. 

A guttural moan escaped Sherlock's throat and his legs spread further without any conscious instruction. He thrust harder into John's unbearably loose grip as John's sturdy fingers circled his hole and trailed up and down his cleft and perineum.

Sherlock shifted forward slightly and arched his back even further, thrusting his arse up in an unspoken plea for more. John's fingers moved more firmly against his hole and his left hand tightened around Sherlock's cock.

"You're a very, very bad boy, Sherlock Holmes, and you deserve a good, hard punishment, don't you?"

Sherlock didn't answer, just kept rocking between the two points of delicious sensation provided by John's hands.

John pulled back his right hand and slapped it down hard on Sherlock's right cheek, drawing a yelp of surprise. "I asked you a question, naughty boy." He smacked the left cheek hard too, and Sherlock moaned. "This is exactly what you deserve, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, yes John," panted Sherlock, continuing to squirm as John's left hand moved more and more firmly up and down his hard length.

"Glad you agree," smiled John, and without stopping the movement of his left hand he brought his right down again, this time squarely across the middle of Sherlock's spread cheeks.

"Uh!" Sherlock grunted. John delivered another smack in the same place. "Ow!" Smack. "Oh god, John!"

Sherlock felt like his body was being overwhelmed by the barrage of sensations. He was hot all over, his skin tingling with electricity. Being pivoted over John's left thigh like this with his legs apart meant his arse was spread, completely exposed. John's left hand kept moving on his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his climax, while at the same time the other moved down to spank the undersides of his cheeks, then back up to fall again across that most private place of all. Those sharp swats of John's fingers to his hole tormented him more than anything, each one sending a jolt of pure arousal through him even as they made him hiss at the sting they left.

"Oh fuck, John, fuck!" Sherlock cried out, starting to lose control as he felt his orgasm building. John almost moaned aloud himself at the sound of the curse. Biting comments from Sherlock's sharp tongue were a daily occurrence, but he only ever swore when they had sex, and even then only when he was truly coming undone.

"Yes, come for me Sherlock, do it." He moved his hand even faster on Sherlock, pumping frantically, and gave his backside a real wallop.

"FUCK! John!"

SMACK. Another almighty slap.

"Ghhhhhh!"

SMACK. A third wallop, and with a yell, Sherlock came.


End file.
